


Montreal

by emmadecody



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Friendship, M/M, subconscious pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 10:55:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10569864
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emmadecody/pseuds/emmadecody
Summary: Yuri sneaks off to Canada to watch Otabek at the Four Continents Championships.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Rated T because you can't say fuck in a G-rated fic.

As Yuri Plisetsky sits hidden in the sea of people at the Four Continents Championships, he thinks about one thing.  
  
How much he wants Otabek Altin to win the gold medal.

There are plenty of other good skaters here, even if Yuri and the rest of the European contingent aren’t competing, but Yuri thinks Otabek deserves it the most. Sure, Otabek’s main competition all won their respective national titles, but Kazakhstan didn’t even host a national championship this year (when your country only has a handful of skaters, sometimes it just doesn’t happen) and he hasn’t taken any time off since the final. Instead, Otabek’s been practicing nearly non-stop and trying to up the difficulty in his free skate so that a situation like Barcelona doesn’t happen again.  
  
(It vaguely annoys Yuri that his first time in Montreal is so soon after JJ stole the bronze from Otabek in Barcelona—mostly because the arena has quite a few life-sized posters of JJ that say _Grand Prix Final Bronze Medalist_ , as if it’s JJ’s ice show and not the fucking World Championships.)  
  
In the stadium, he wears his most subdued hoodie with the hood up and over his head. He’s sandwiched between a young, presumably Canadian family, with a small child waving the red maple leaf flag and an elderly couple who have probably been watching figure skating since before Yakov was _born_. If any of them recognize him, they don’t say anything, so Yuri attempts to be polite when he has to move past them to find his seat. The last thing he needs is some random Canadian yelling that Yuri Plisetsky is sitting next to them.  
  
No one but Katsudon knows he’s here, because he bullied him into getting him a hotel room. (Bullied is a strong word, because when he asked, Katsudon just kept talking about how nice it was the Yuri was coming to support his friends and didn’t protest _at all_ , despite Yuri repeatedly saying he was coming to watch a _friend_ , singular.) Oh, and Viktor, because he spotted him in the hotel hallway earlier and Katsuki had to drag him away before the older man could draw any more attention to Yuri’s presence. And Yakov and Lilia so they don’t think he’s skipping practice. Since Hasetsu, Yakov is constantly convinced that Yuri is leaving the country if he is more than five minutes late to practice.  
  
After all, even _Otabek_ doesn’t know he’s here.  
  
As group two begins to warm up, he thinks about the last two months following Barcelona. It’s weird enough having a friend, let alone having a friend who he talks to nearly every day and is willing to cross an ocean to support. Someone who he’ll risk interacting with idiotic tourists and the even more idiotic press for.  
  
They’ve grown close in these two months, starting with texting fairly often to every day along with weekly phone calls. Otabek lets Yuri rant about anything and _everything_ without judgement—whether it’s the chaos that’s come with Viktor and Katsudon moving to St. Petersburg or Lilia and Yakov possibly getting back together or the fact that his grandpa’s doctor has told him he shouldn’t travel from Moscow with his lingering cold.  
  
Yuri likes to think that he’s Otabek’s best friend too. He knows that Otabek has other friends—after all, most people do—but sometimes he thinks that there are parts of his friend that only he sees. He wonders if Leo (who Otabek trained with in Denver for a few years) ever picked up on what Otabek _doesn’t_ say. How he feels the pressure to perform well for Kazakhstan, how he worries that his skating style will keep him from progressing, how he fears that after missing the podium in Barcelona while skating at his best, it be might it for him.  
  
Otabek doesn’t say these things, but Yuri still hears them.

Then the announcer’s voice fills the stadium and the short program begins. Yuri hunches over, waiting for his friend to step on to the ice. When he does, he whispers, “ _Davai_.”  
  


\--

  
Otabek places second behind Katsudon after the short program. In his post-session interview, he seems pleased with his score (Yuri can tell, as he’s become very versed in the expressions of Otabek Altin), which is only a few points lower than in Barcelona. Katsudon is only ahead by a point and, as usual, seems a bit nervous in his interviews.  
  
(Of course Yuri watches Katsudon’s press — he has to make sure he makes fun of him for doing anything idiotic, like the time he was so excited he somehow managed to forget Viktor’s name.)  
  
Yuri spends the day before the free skate sleeping in and wandering through the side streets of downtown Montreal alone. He’s a bit disappointed that he can’t go to any of the major landmarks without being spotted—there is a split second where he just wants to take off his hood and swear loudly so the press will find him and he won’t have to worry about secrecy anymore—but he figures that maybe he can sneak to those places when the skating spectators are at the arena watching the ladies’ short program. But there a few things, farther out from the most congested parts of the city, that he can see.  
  
Here, there are still tourists but fewer of them appear to be skating fans. Instead, they just look like ordinary people—they take their time, taking pictures every few feet, and he resists yelling at them for being in his way in case anyone _does_ recognize his accented English. For the first time in a long time, he attempts to blend in. So he takes selfies to post later and he reads the historical placards plastered to every building. He has good pictures of the _Chalet du Mont Royal_ and some weird art in the _Centre d’exposition de l’Université de Montréal._ As he winds his way through the cramped side streets, he wonders why more competitions aren’t held here. It would be certainly more exciting than going to Toronto or Ontario every year for Skate Canada.  
  
So much of him wishes that he was wandering Montreal with Otabek, but he knows he can’t distract him. Not when his friend is feeling so much pressure to do well here. And Yuri understands—the pressure he felt at Euros after taking gold at Russian Nationals isn’t something he wants to experience again. But he knows that after _that_ gold, the pressure for Worlds will be no better. This is the life he and Otabek have chosen and sometimes, they make sacrifices.  
  
Later, he wanders back towards the city center, his legs aching a bit from the walking, He could get an Uber, but at least this way he can say he got some sort of exercise in while he’s not training. He knows he’ll need to stretch later regardless, or Lilia will murder him in his sleep. On his way back, he browses some boutiques, wondering if he’ll ever find anything better than that tiger sweatshirt from Hasetsu, and eventually finds a pair of leopard print leggings.  
  
It’s nearly four-thirty when Yuri gets back to the hotel. He’s picked up some mediocre Chinese food, swearing to himself that he’ll get some poutine before the competition is over, and plans to hide in his room for the rest of the evening. If he gets too bored, he can get dessert from room service on Viktor and Katsuki’s dime and maybe watch a movie. But for now, he’s content to eat his dumplings and browse the internet.  
  
He’s annoyed with everyone else’s ability to post on social media. His own Instagram has been suspiciously quiet since he’s arrived (the Angels have noticed and they’ve been speculating that he might be dead in a ditch somewhere, so he’s not worried they might know he’s here) and as soon as the competition is over, he’s going to post every damn picture he took today to Instagram.  
  
His phone begins to ring and he sees a FaceTime request from Otabek and he begins to panic.  
  
“ _Fuck,_ ” Yuri mutters, and jumps off of the bed. He’s obviously in a hotel room and it’s obviously not dark enough to be midnight in Russia—where Otabek expects him to be. Yanking the curtains closed, Yuri dives under the blankets before answering the call on his laptop so the screen illuminates his face.  
  
Suddenly, Otabek’s face appears, a bit fuzzy from the shitty internet connection, and he frowns at Yuri. “Why are you under a blanket?”  
  
Yuri panics again, wracking his brain for an answer that doesn’t sound stupid. “It’s extra cold in Russia today,” he grumbles, trying to sound more like his angry self than he feels. In reality, he’s so happy to talk to Otabek he wants to grin like a madman.  
  
“I see,” Otabek says, but doesn’t bring it up again. Instead, he rolls his neck back and sighs. “I placed second behind Katsuki.”  
  
“You should have been in first, Katsuki totally under-rotated on his quad Sal—“  
  
“You watched?” Otabek smiles. Yuri loves it when Otabek smiles. His eyes crinkle up a bit in the corners and it’s so genuine that Yuri wonders why more people don’t try to make Otabek happy—but to be honest, he likes that he’s the only one who can make Otabek smile.  
  
“A livestream,” Yuri says quickly. “I stayed up later, but went to bed after you were done because I had practice in the morning. But I can watch the whole free skate with my day off.” He feels himself uncharacteristically babbling and he wants to slam his head into a wall. Sometimes, he loses his cool around Otabek and he wonders if friends are supposed to do that to you—make you act like an idiot.  
  
Otabek keeps smiling. “Katsuki did a good job, but I’ve upped the difficulty in the second half of my free skate, so I might catch him.”  
  
“You will.” Yuri sighs and burrows down into the bed. “Why can’t Russia be a part of Four Continents? We’re in Asia too.”  
  
“No one lives in that part, Yuri.”  
  
Yuri growls and Otabek smiles again. Yuri can feel his stomach twist a bit when Otabek says his name.  
  
After a moment, Otabek looks away. “I wish you could be here too.” He looks back at Yuri. “We could go on the bike I rented and find somewhere we wouldn’t be interrupted for dinner.”  
  
“That would be nice,” Yuri says quietly. They sit in a comfortable silence for a moment, Yuri wondering if the offer is just something you say when you can’t see someone or if it carries some real weight—if Otabek really _does_ wish he was there. He and Otabek stare at each other for a bit longer before Yuri sighs. “I can’t _believe_ Katsudon brought his sister and ballet teacher to our dinner.”  
  
“They were nice,” Otabek says diplomatically and Yuri rolls his eyes. He’s glad that Otabek doesn’t appear to mind the change of subject—he doesn’t want to dwell on the fact that they haven’t seen each other since Barcelona.  
  
“They were literally sobbing for the first ten minutes,” he mutters, groaning.  
  
“Well the twenty minutes before they showed up were nice,” Otabek says quietly and Yuri lets himself smile.  
  
“Twenty minutes without dealing with any of those losers,” Yuri yawns. He’s still feeling the jet-lag and the sight-seeing wore him out.  
  
Otabek looks concerned and shakes his head. “I shouldn’t have called so late, you were up early for practice.”  
  
“I—“ Yuri starts to say something—what, he doesn’t know, but Otabek cuts him off.  
  
“You need to sleep, Yuri. I’ll text you tomorrow.”  
  
Yuri relents because he doesn’t know what else he can do without revealing he’s here, probably in the _same hotel_ , and sighs. He isn’t too tired to talk to Otabek, he’s never been too tired for him. But he knows he can’t make any excuses that Otabek will believe. “Okay.”  
  
“Goodnight, Yuri.”  
  
“Goodnight, Otabek.”  
  
His friend ends the call and Yuri lays there, huddled under the blanket still. He can tell him tomorrow, after the free skate, that he’s here. Then they can go to that dinner.  
  


\--

  
The next afternoon, after sleeping in until an unreasonable hour, Yuri finds himself sitting between the same people as yesterday when he arrives for the free skate. He reaches into his bag and pulls out a small Kazkhstani flag that he bought at a table in the lobby.  
  
“Here,” he says to the little girl, who is holding a JJ sign today instead of the Canadian flag. “This is for you.”  
  
She looks at him, frowning. “What country is this?”  
  
“Kazakhstan,” Yuri says, somehow managing not to tack _idiot_ on to the end of his sentence. “There’s a cool skater from Kazakhstan.”  
  
The girl takes the flag, but still looks suspicious. “I don’t know most of the skaters except the Canadian ones. Is he as cool as JJ?”  
  
Yuri barely resists rolling his eyes. There’s the miraculous explanation for why she hasn’t recognized him. “Otabek Altin. And maybe even cooler. I’ve met him.” He wants to say, _he’s my best friend_ , but he’s still not sure if he can trust a JJ Girl. “There are a lot of cool skaters from countries that aren’t Canada. Russia and Japan too.” He will never admit to Katsudon that he told a tiny Canadian child he was cool.  
  
The little girl’s eyes grow round and she nods. “You’ve met a skater? I’ve never met _any of them_.”  
  
“A couple, yeah.”  
  
“Have you ever met JJ?”  
  
Yuri snorts, but tries to channel his inner Otabek and be diplomatic. “Yes. He’s… confident.” He leaves it at that because this kid doesn’t need to hear what he really thinks. Some day she will realize that she should burn her JJ poster and that there are other skaters from other countries she could cheer for.   
  
The announcements begin and Yuri turns back to the ice. The skaters leave the rink and he catches a glimpse of Otabek as he walks into the tunnel and back to the hallway where he can finish warming up.  
  
They announce that Guang Hong Ji is skating first and Yuri tries to relax as the free skate begins.    
  


\--

  
Otabek’s free program is even better than it was in Barcelona.  
  
When he strikes his final pose, the audience claps wildly—it’s louder than yesterday and Yuri even sees a few people stand. Otabek raises a hand to wave at them—an uncharacteristic gesture—and leaves the rink. A few moments later, after showing a few replays of Otabek’s best jumps, the screen in the center of the rink shows Otabek waiting in the Kiss and Cry.  
  
Yuri waits for Otabek’s scores, eyes never leaving the screen except to squint over at the real, smaller Otabek he can just make out on the other side of the rink. He balls his hands into fists. The program was virtually flawless, yet fear overtakes him as Yuri waits. It’s happened before, so why couldn’t it happen again? The audience appreciated him more today, but will the judges?  
  
He watches Otabek hug a large stuffed bear that was thrown onto the ice. There are murmurs around him that mention _beautiful_ , _surprising_ , and _overrated_. Yuri’s knuckles turn impossibly white because if anything, Otabek is _under_ rated.  
  
Yuri jumps up and grabs his things, because right now, he needs to find Otabek. He needs to congratulate him in person, let him know that he isn’t here alone—that someone else cares that he’s nearly won. But before he can leave, the old woman sitting to his right touches his arm. He jerks away in surprise, biting back an insult, but she just smiles.  
  
“Are you Yuri Plisetsky, dear?” she asks quietly. Yuri is too shocked to try and deny it. He’s been sitting next to this woman for two days and she hasn’t said _anything_. He nods jerkily and her smile grows bigger. “Will you sign my program?” She extends a pen towards him.  
  
He accepts it reluctantly, not bothering to mention that it’s pointless for him to sign a program of an event he didn’t even skate at, but whatever. She was somehow decent enough to not say anything at all. He hands the pen back to her when he’s done and she thanks him. When he turns around to leave, the little girl on his other side is still clutching her Kazakhstani flag and staring at him.  
  
“ _You’re Yuri Plisetsky?”_ she whispers. Yuri nods again and looks around to see if anyone heard. She drops her flag and slaps her hands over her mouth. “That’s how you know Otabek! And JJ!”  
  
Yuri nods again, cursing the fact that this girl will forever think that he’s friends with such an obnoxious person. “Yeah, Otabek’s my best friend.” It feels good to say it someone, to finally be able to admit why he’s here.  
  
“That’s so _cool_ ,” she says. “Can I get a selfie?”  
  
Yuri looks at the girl’s parents, who are mortified, but he shrugs. At this point it’s like interacting with the Nishigori triplets, who have taken enough pictures of him to create one of those tear-away calendars. “Just don’t post it until after the event’s over. No one knows I’m here.” He tries to add a snarl to the demand, but it’s half-hearted.  
  
He leans down and poses for the selfie with his characteristic pout, then finally disappears from the stands. He starts running when he’s in the hallway, knowing that the skaters are on the _other_ side of the building and the hallways will flood with spectators who are done watching any second.  
  
He can hear Otabek’s score announced and it’s _huge_. He’s going to take the gold.  
  
At this point, he doesn’t really care if anyone notices he’s here. His hoodie falls off as he sprints through the curving hallways and he skids into the scoring area. He sees Otabek talking to his coach, a smile is only reaction—as if any of the remaining skaters could actually score higher than him. Someone tries to tell Yuri that he isn’t allowed to be there, but he snarls at them and they back away when they realize who he is. For the first time this weekend, being Yuri Plisetsky is a plus.  
  
Despite Otabek’s quiet happiness, everyone around him is ecstatic. His coach, normally as stoic as her student, is talking animatedly to someone Yuri doesn’t recognize. The last skater is on the ice, but everyone knows that he won’t catch up. The gold is Otabek’s.  
  
For once, Yuri waits patiently for Otabek to notice he’s there. He’s waited all weekend to let him know he’s here, and he can wait a bit longer. To his left, he sees Katsudon and Viktor. He makes eye contact with the younger skater and nods. Katsudon smiles back at him and Viktor notices Yuri. For the second time since they’ve been in Montreal, Katsudon has to drag Viktor away before he can draw any more attention to the situation.  
  
He waits because he doesn’t want to take away from this moment. He knows, _obviously_ , what it’s like to win a major competition—as does Otabek—and he knows that sometimes you just need a moment to yourself. You don’t need every person who has ever supported you trying to get your attention. So instead, he waits and thinks about how Katsudon snagged silver, Leo de la Iglesia will probably get the bronze, and JJ will end up stuck off the podium.  
  
(It’s the only thing that could make Otabek’s victory any sweeter.)  
  
After about a minute, Otabek looks over his way and sees him. The smile morphs into shock and then a full blown _grin_ and Yuri shrugs, as if it’s not a big deal that he’s here. But he struggles to contain himself, to not run forward and tackle Otabek in excitement, and he grins too. Otabek walks away from his team without a word and toward Yuri.  
  
As soon as he’s close enough, he wraps his arms around the younger skater and doesn’t let go. They don’t say anything; they just stand there, Yuri wrapped in Otabek’s tight embrace.  
  
They have only been friends for a few months, but the loyalty that Yuri feels towards Otabek is the strongest he’s felt toward anyone that isn’t family. Otabek winning makes him feel a sense of pride that he’s only ever reserved for himself, and if they weren’t in public, he’s sure he’d be in tears.  
  
“You were in a hotel room last night, weren’t you?” Otabek says softly, and Yuri can hear the smile in his voice.  
  
“Of course, idiot.”  
  
“You’re a terrible liar, you know. I just couldn’t figure out what you were lying _about_.” Otabek lets go and steps back. “I’m glad you came.”  
  
Yuri is thankful that he’s not the blushing type, because right now, he knows cheeks would be pinker than Guang Hong Ji’s. “I’m glad I got to see you skate,” Yuri says, smiling. “And you beat fucking JJ.”  
  
Otabek laughs softly and ruffles Yuri’s hair. “I knew you’d like that.”  
  
Yuri’s smile softens a bit. “Both of your programs were beautiful,” he says sincerely.  
  
“Thank you.”  
  
Yuri can tell Otabek is happy with the way he skated. There isn’t anything that his friend wants to break down and dissect and he doesn’t think that he’s fallen short of anything. Today, Otabek feels that he’s accomplished what he needs to.  
  
Yuri wraps him in a hug again because he can’t help himself—he’s overcome with emotion and if he presses his face into the blue and white lycra of Otabek’s free skate costume, no one will see that he has tears in his eyes.  
  
“Let’s go get that dinner?” Yuri says, hoping it’s not too apparent that he’s sort of crying.  
  
“Away from Katsuki and Viktor and the rest of them right?” Otabek’s teasing him and Yuri pulls back and rolls his eyes.  
  
“I don’t care if we have to go to the shittiest part of Montreal.” Yuri grumbles. “I’m not eating with Katsudon and Viktor. But I couldn’t go downtown in case any crazy fans recognized me and I still want to try poutine.”  
  
“I’m sure Lilia would approve.”  
  
“Shut up and go get your medal.”  
  


\--

  
They play the Kazakhstani national anthem and Yuri shamelessly lets a few tears slip through. Katsudon looks happy despite losing the gold _again_ and Leo de la Iglesia—who did end up with the bronze—looks happy to be back on the podium for the first time since Skate America.  
  


\--

  
He shoots a text to Katsudon while he’s in the lobby of Otabek’s hotel.  
  


[To: Katsudon, 8:01 PM]  
  
_if you and Viktor try and interrupt my dinner, I will never bring you piroshky again_ __  
  
[To: Katsudon, 8:02 PM]  
  
_and if you don’t, I will maybe teach you how to make them, since you asked_  
  


As he stowing away his phone in his pocket, the elevator dings and Otabek steps out wearing his black leather jacket over a grey t-shirt. His hair is perfectly styled away from his face and Yuri can never figure out how Otabek manages to look so pulled together after spending most of the day competing, but he’s a bit jealous.   
  
“This way,” Otabek says as they step out onto the sidewalk and take a right. It’s snowing lightly and they’re making their way back to Otabek’s hotel so they can pick up the motorcycle.  
  
“I found this place that has poutine and other Canadian food, whatever the fuck that means,” Yuri says. “Hope that’s okay,” he adds, not because he thinks he has to, but because he actually wants to know.  
  
“Yeah,” Otabek says. He’s also fiddling with his phone. “You haven’t been on social media in a bit.”  
  
Yuri sticks his tongue out at him. “I was trying to keep a low profile. And you never post anything.”  
  
“Well, we could take a selfie if you want?”  
  
Yuri raises his eyebrows, because he doesn’t know how to respond. They’ve only taken one picture together ever, before they left Barcelona. And Yuri had requested it moodily, pulling Otabek into it without much of an argument. But for some reason, he isn’t too surprised.  
  
“Sure.”  
  
Yuri pushes himself on his toes and they both frown at the camera, as if they can’t stand be in the same country together. Otabek snaps the picture and quickly types something that Yuri can’t see, and pockets his phone.  
  
“Let’s go,” he says, and Yuri struggles to keep up with his pace.  
  
Later, when they eating poutine and whippet cookies, Otabek slips off to use the restroom. As soon as he’s gone, Yuri pulls out his phone and looks at the post on Instagram. He absentmindedly notices that Otabek didn’t bother to put a filter on the picture, but he’s more concerned with the caption.  
  
_When your best friend comes to see you win gold._

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading! This is the first fanfic I've written in a _long_ time, but YOI has really made me want to write fanfic again.
> 
> Thanks to my delightful best friend and forever beta, Alison, who reread this so many times I'm sure her brain melted.


End file.
